| A place afar in distant dreams
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| Mystic winds blow
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| Men mount birds of prey to war
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| And raid each others shore
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| Wizards and Warlocks battle by night
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| One survives by cunning and might
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| Take what you can by sword and sabre
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| Just reward for perilous labour
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| Stands among them a natural King
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| A man of barbaric breed
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| In a blade of steel he lays his trust
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| Killing and taking his needs
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| Upon him the scars of battles gone by
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| From many who have gazed in his murderous eye
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| Astride his mount he cursed and then
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| Assembled his men in thousands and ten
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| Onward lads we’ll kill them all
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| Victory is ours
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| We’ll have their heads and female slaves
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| Soon to loot their towers
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| Riding hard they rushed the gates
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| And scaled the granite walls
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| Through boiling oil and falling stone
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| His men endured it all
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| In bloody streets the battle raged
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| Brave men died and women were caged
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| Amidst the hoard, a barbaric roar
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| He gut the guard and kicked down the door
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| Sword in one hand, torch in the other
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| Alert every step of the way
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| If legends be true this place is cursed
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| Demons stand guard night and day
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| Living hell cloaked in black
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| Three ungodly hosts
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| Upon the dais a ball of light
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| Which binds them to their post
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| Faster than a striking cobra
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| Hit the altar and knocked it over
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| Shattered in a silver shower
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| The priests of hell have lost their power
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| Up the stairs a golden door
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| The queen awaits within
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| Her naked body close to his
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| The prize is won again
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| And has she yields to his force
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| His mind drifts off to Future Wars |